The Deception Series, Year 1: Discovery
by Zenathea
Summary: Magic. It was fantastical, complex, and the only part of his heritage that he could be certain of. AU. No Slash. Later parts of the series to be rated M.
1. A School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, JKR's and whatnot.

* * *

**The Deception Series**

_What is one man's truth compared to another man's truth, but the fabrication of one's reality built falsely upon the assumptions of one's senses and that which one choses ultimately to believe? When the truth is so obscure, is it even possible to ascertain what is from what isn't and what out to be from what will be?_

******Year 1: Discovery**

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It was a sunny, cloudless day – one of those hot to the point of the heat being almost unbearable sort of days. Many Londoners had given up all pretense of enjoying the muggy, July heat that choked them, upon stepping outside their homes and offices, and had sequestered themselves inside air-conditioned buildings or taken up residence for the day by one the of the many public water fountains and pools.

In a far from wealthy neighborhood, where the streets were lined with Edwardian era houses in various states of disrepair, a boy with messy, black hair and intelligent, green eyes braved the heat. He sat behind one particular house that looked to be in worse shape than the others on its block, although the house's back garden was considerably well tended to in comparison to any other in the neighborhood.

It was in the back garden that the boy sat, hidden within one of the flowerbeds that lined the garden fence, behind a grouping of Hydrangea bushes in specific. A contemplative, longing look marred his young face. A book rested open in his lap, propped against his bent, knobby knees. Neither the book or the fact that the rough, hard bricks of the weathered fence he rested against were cutting painfully into his back through the threadbare t-shirt that he wore seemed to concern him. He was lost in his thoughts and not pleasant thoughts at that.

Such was the state that Cole Trafalgar found himself in more often than not when the slow, tediousness of day to day existence caught up with him. Summers were the worst. They were _always_ the worst. During the school year, he had school and homework to keep him occupied to an extent, but summers … they dragged on with each day pointedly reminding him of his lot in life.

"Cole!"

Cole sighed, knowing the voice calling to him all too well. A look of annoyance overtook his features and deepened, as noisy, hurried steps approached his hiding place – a perfectly good hiding place that he'd rather not have compromised by the shear stupidity of Adam Marsden. It was bad enough that Adam had discovered his hiding place a month back and could now find him where he'd once been free of Madam Taft, Leanne, and Adam, as well.

Cole glowered at the red haired, pudgy boy of eight, as the younger boy crawled between the largest Hydrangea bush and the fence, causing the entire bush to shake noticeably with his clumsy movements. Several of the purplish blue flower petals fell free of the plant and drifted to the cool, shaded soil that defined the small cavity behind the Hydrangeas that was just big enough for the two boys to share.

"I knew you'd be here," the pudgy boy said with a trace of relief on his round face.

"How many times have I told you not to come out here shouting for me?" Cole demanded, glaring at Adam. They weren't supposed to be in the flowerbeds. Madam Taft would have their heads, if she ever found out that they'd been defiling her precious plants, as her garden was her pride and joy. The old bat cared more for her plants than she did for the children she fostered, Cole was sure of it and Adam knew it as well. "You best hope Leanne didn't see you." The older girl wouldn't waste such an opportunity to get them in trouble.

"She didn't," Adam said adamantly. "She's busy spyin' on Madam Taft and –" His mouth snapped shut and his hand flew to his left pocket in a frantic gesture, as if remembering something he'd put in the pocket and needing to assure himself that it was still there. Relief flashed across his face, before he bit his lips and looked to Cole in a familiar, nervous manner that made Cole want to smack him.

"What've you done now?" Cole asked resignedly, knowing that Adam was about to ask him to help clean up one of his messes, fix something he's broken, or replace something he's lost before Madam Taft or Leanne noticed.

"I didn't mean to," Adam wailed. "I swear that I didn't. But … but I was curious a-and –"

"Whatever you've done, I'm sure it's not _that_ bad," Cole said, as the boy choked on his own words and buried in head in hands.

"I'm going to be is so much trouble," the boy said with mumbled words, sounding truly distressed.

Cole let out an exasperated breath, reminding himself that it wasn't Adam's fault that his parents were druggies who shouldn't have ever been allowed to conceive a child, just as it wasn't Leanne's fault that her parents were drunkards and thieves who were currently rotting in their respective prison cells and so forcing him to endure their daughter's snide remarks on a daily basis. It was just their lot in life, and they had to deal with one another the best that they could. He was merely the lucky one out of the three of them, as no one could prove that his parents were complete and total disappointments. As the black haired babe found on 1 November 1981 at the base of the Nelson Column in Trafalgar Square, he had the luxury of pretending that his parents were honest, decent folk who just hadn't been ready for a kid or perhaps had misplaced him or something. Although, it was getting harder and harder for him to convince himself of as much with each passing year.

Adam handed Cole an odd envelope from his pocket wordlessly. Cole took it from the younger boy, who continued to snivel into his hands.

As Cole weighed the strange envelope in his hand, he marveled at the weird texture of the paper it was made out of and the emerald ink scrawled in perfect hand across it's front. The envelope was addressed to him. It had his name on it, _M. Trafalgar_, and specified his residence down to _the first floor, far left bedroom facing east_. He frowned at the lack of return address and stamp. He turned the envelope over and his frown became even more pronounced at seeing an official looking wax seal holding the envelope closed.

With curiosity and a small amount of trepidation, Cole peeled back the wax seal and pulled out the sheets of ink riddled paper of a similar texture to the envelope. The top sheet read:

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL_

_of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Trafalgar,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl no later than 31 July._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall,_

_Deputy Headmistress_

"Witchcraft and wizardry?" Cole mouthed, completely perplexed by the strange letter. He looked to Adam. The boy was still sniffling beside him. "Where did you get this, Adam?"

"T-the man dropped it." Adam's eyes remained locked upon his lap, his lower lip trembling. "It's odd, i-isn't it? – and has that fancy crest. I picked it up and was just lookin' at it. I w-wanted a look, tha's all. I swear it." He looked up at Cole with pleading eyes that silently begged the older boy to believe him. "He didn't realize he dropped it at first. I was g-gonna give it back, Cole. I was. But then I heard him sayin' that he had a letter and you know how Madam Taft gets when she thinks we're up to no good. I sh-shoulda just returned it. I know I shoulda, but I …" He gestured wildly towards the house beyond the Hydrangeas and then to where he'd crawled between the fence and the largest Hydrangea bush.

"You ran," Cole concluded for him, frustration rising within him at just how stupid Adam could be at times. Yet, he couldn't help but wonder who the man carrying about a letter addressed to him, which spoke of a school of witchcraft and wizardry, was and if the letter in his hands was actually authentic. Magic was real, after all. Cole had done it. He'd just never heard of any school that taught it.

Adam nodded, only for his eyes to widen, as they settled upon the open envelope and the unfolded sheets of the letter in Cole's hands. "Cole!" he exclaimed, half whined fearfully, as his red, watery eyes turned miserable and filled with tears that he'd not be able to hold back.

"It's mine," Cole said quickly, hoping to calm Adam before the boy drew attention from inside the house. He made to show Adam that the envelope was addressed to him.

"I hate you!" Adam yelled loudly and jumped to his feet, ignoring the emerald writing on the envelope. "I h-hate you!" he yelled again, as his tears spilled over and slid down his reddened cheeks. "You're always g-getting me in trouble with Madam Taft!" He kicked Cole in the leg, just as a great sob escaped him, and before Cole could stop him, he barreled out of the Hydrangeas and dashed for the house.

Cole winced, as he touched the scuffed skin of his calf. It was pink and stung a bit, but didn't hurt too horribly. Adam was pudgy, not strong.

"Madam Taft! Madam Taft!"

Cole heard the sound of the back door close behind Adam. He grimaced. He knew what Adam was going to do without even needing to hear Madam Taft yell for him. Hastily, he stuffed the sheets of the letter back into the envelope and settled the envelope between the pages of the book that he'd been reading prior to having become lost in another day dream about what he might have been doing on a summer day like today, if he had parents. He certainly wouldn't have been hiding out in Madam Taft's Hydrangea bushes, he knew that.

"Cole Trafalgar! You get in this house this instant!"

"Coming, Madam Taft," Cole yelled back. With his book under his arm, he checked to make sure the cost was clear, before exiting the Hydrangeas with far more stealth than Adam had and making for the house.

The house that Cole had been forced to call 'home' for the last three years wasn't a large house, yet wasn't super small either. Like many townhouses, it was narrow in design. There was a cellar accessible by the backyard, the ground floor, the first floor, and a second floor that was part of the attic.

Cole entered the plain, white walled entrance hall, leaving behind the sweet perfume of the garden and the heat of the day. He slipped off his dirty trainers by the door – a habit instilled into him by Madam Taft – before making his way up the long, narrow hall that extended from the front door to the back door with just enough room for a rickety set of stairs.

"In the sitting room," Madam Taft instructed brusquely.

Cole gritted his teeth and picked up his pace, passing the kitchen, a small dining room, and all too soon rounding the archway of the sitting room. More so than the rest of the house that Cole was allowed access to, the room smelled of Madam Taft, the scent of old woman that was a cross between a floral sort of smell and the stench of decay. He wrinkled his nose, as he took in the sight of Adam standing near where Madam Taft sat in her favorite armchair, looking stubborn. The woman herself was looking less than pleased.

"He's got the man's letter. I saw him nick it, Madam Taft. I swear I did," Adam piped up almost instantly.

"Cole, is what Adam says true?" Madam Taft asked severely, her aged face full of condemnation.

"I haven't nicked anything," Cole said truthfully, yet knew it was no use. The old bat didn't like him and had never liked him, none of his caregivers ever did. He was only still under the madam's care after three years of old happenings dubbed 'the work of the devil', because the woman had a reputation to protect. Supposedly, she took in the worst of London's foster kids and turned them into proper citizens without fail, before they aged out of the system. With Leanne, Adam, and him, however, Cole thought that she had finally bitten off more than she could chew. The madam wasn't as young as she once was and Leanne and Adam were always keen on stirring up some sort of trouble, purposefully more often than accidentally. As for Cole … well, trouble usually found him without him ever having to go looking for it, especially since Adam's arrival eight months back.

"He's lyin'!" Adam yelled furiously. "I saw him. I saw him!"

Madam Taft held up her hand for silence and looked purposefully at the mid-aged man dressed in an old fashioned suit with his dark brown hair styled in a sleek ponytail, who was sitting straight-backed in the armchair across from her with his legs crossed at the knee, looking the picture of a civilized gentleman. "You may speak with Cole if you insist upon it, Professor, but as I've told you and you can now see plainly for yourself, the boy is hardly fit to attend such a prestigious establishment."

The man, the professor, regarded Cole with a critical gaze. Cole shifted uneasily under the man's perceptive eyes, feeling himself being judged and knowing that he'd be found wanting.

"Mr. Trafalgar, is it?" the professor asked.

"Yes, sir." Cole tried not to fidget.

"Have you opened the letter?" The question wasn't accusatory, merely curious.

"Yes, sir. I have," Cole confirmed, while avoiding looking at Madam Taft. She'd do her worst later.

"Are you interested?" The professor's brown eyes swept over Cole once more, before capturing and holding the boy's gaze. "A simple yes or no will suffice." He glanced meaningfully at Adam and Madam Taft, leaving Cole with the impression that the two weren't supposed to know what his letter contained.

_Surely,_ Cole thought to himself, _Madam Taft wouldn't consider a school that teaches witchcraft and wizardry a prestigious establishment._

"Yes, sir. I am," Cole answered with more confidence than he actually felt, while trying not to sound too eager. He had a feeling that the letter and the man weren't all a part of some elaborate hoax, but to be on the safe side, he didn't want to show how much a school of witchcraft and wizardry excited him, so they couldn't laugh at him too hard when they pulled the proverbial rug out from under him.

"Very well," the professor said with a smile lighting his features and made to stand. He looked to Madam Taft. "I will be taking Mr. Trafalgar to get his school supplies."

"But, sir," Madam Taft protested, standing up as well, her movements slow and riddle with her age. "The boy –"

"Has been down on our list for several years now," the professor cut off Madam Taft sharply, his smile faltering and eyes narrowing at her in displeasure. He looked as if he had many things that he'd like to say to her, none of which would be very nice. He took a slow breath and returned his attention to Cole. "Go put on your shoes, Mr. Trafalgar. I'll meet you at the front door."

Cole didn't need to be told twice, as Madam Taft was glaring at him with the loathing that she had long since abandoned trying to hide. He was entirely unsurprised when Adam darted out of the room after him, knowing just as the younger boy did that the red haired boy would need the head start on escaping Madam Taft's wrath.

Cole slipped on his beat up trainers, pulling at the stubborn tongue of his right trainer that always got tangled as he did so. Upon turning back towards the front of the entrance hall, he saw the professor waiting for him.

"You should leave that here," the professor said with a nod at the book Cole still carried, as the boy approached him.

"Yes, sir." Cole opened the book and extracted his letter from its pages, knowing that it no longer mattered if Madam Taft demanded that he turn out his pockets and not wanting to leave his letter behind with the book. He tucked his letter into the right, back pocket of his shorts with care and placed the book on the sideboard by the door. When he looked back up at the professor, the knowing look in the man's eyes was unmistakable.

The professor said nothing, as he pulled open the front door and ushered Cole out of the house, down the stone steps of the front stoop, and onto the pavement.

Cole bit his lip, falling into step beside the man, as they headed left up the walk. He had so many question that he wanted to ask about magic and the professor's school that he felt as if he might burst, yet the man's silence held his tongue.

They walked for some time, leaving behind the familiarity of Cole's neighborhood. The sun was merciless at their backs, while the pavement reflected the day's heat up at them. Cole could feel himself panting and his shirt clinging to the skin between his shoulder blades, yet the professor didn't even look so much as flushed and the man had on a full suit. _Magic_, Cole thought with certainty and a touch of envy.

Upon catching sight of a cab, the professor hailed the vehicle. He gave the cabby an address on Charing Cross and directed Cole into the air-conditioned backseat, much to Cole's relief. The cab ride passed in continued silence with Cole forcing himself to look out the window and not fidget in his seat. After several drawn out minutes that felt more like an hour than a mere fifteen minutes, the cab pulled to a stop along a busy street with towering buildings on either side.

"This way, Mr. Trafalgar," the professor said and steered Cole past an old, second-hand bookstore towards a dingy looking pub. A sign reading 'The Leaky Cauldron' protruded over the door, hung on rusted iron.

Glancing around to see if anyone else found the pub to be strange and looking very out of place, Cole noticed that no one else, outside of the professor and himself, seemed to be aware of the pub's existence, for most people's eyes slid from the bookstore to the record shop on the opposite side of the pub without even sparing the pub a glance.

"Can they see it?" Cole asked curiously, watching as a woman and her two daughters walked past the pub as if it wasn't even there.

"No," the professor said simply and pulled open the door of the pub in an assured, inviting manner that had Cole stepping into the pub without question or hesitation.

The inside of the pub wasn't much of an improvement over its outside, in Cole's opinion. It was darkly lit with oil lamps and candles and had an overall worn and shabby feel to it. There were only a few patrons. An elderly man at the bar was talking to the barman in slurred syllables and a young witch sitting at one of the shadowed back tables was writing with a feather on paper that appeared similar to the paper of Cole's letter.

_Quill and parchment,_ Cole realized with a jolt of surprise and a surge of interest.

"I imagine that you have a lot of questions," the professor said and gestured for Cole to take a seat at the nearest table.

Cole sat and looked up at the professor expectantly.

The professor gave Cole a genial smile, as he lowered himself into the seat opposite the boy. "I am Demetrius Cornfoot, professor of History of Magic at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am here to answer whatever questions you might have about the magical world and guide you in buying your school supplies."

Cole shifted uneasily in his chair. "How much do the supplies cost?" He hoped that the supplies didn't cost much and that he didn't have to pay for them, as he didn't have any money. If he did have to pay for them, well, he hoped that he might strike some sort of deal with the professor. He liked magic and wanted to attend the professor's school and learn more about magic and what all could be done with it. The most he'd ever been able to do with meaning to was to make things move without touching them. Though, one time, when he hadn't meant to, he had turned Leanne's skin purple with bright green spots. He still wasn't sure how she got back to normal. All he knew was that the next time that he had seen her she was normal again and neither she nor Madam Taft remembered the incident.

Professor Cornfoot pulled a velvet pouch with the same crest as the one stamped into the wax seal of Cole's letter stitched into its front from an inside pocket of his suit's jacket and dropped it on the table in front of Cole. There was a distinct _clink-clink-clink_ that rang of several coins knocking together. "That will be enough to buy you everything you need. If you get some of your supplies second-hand, you'll be able to buy a bit more than the basics."

Cole stared at Professor Cornfoot, waiting for the man to elaborate on what exactly 'the basics' were. When the professor didn't, he thought back to his letter and remembered there being a second parchment. Under Professor Cornfoot's approving gaze, he pulled his letter from his pocket and shifted his acceptance letter aside. Along with his acceptance letter, he'd been given a train ticket and a supplies list. The supplies list read:

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL_

_of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_UNIFORM_

_First-year student will require:_

_1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)_

_2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_

_3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_

_4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)_

_Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags_

_COURSE BOOKS_

_All students should have a copy of each of the following:_

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) _ by Miranda Goshawk_

A History of Magic _by Bathilda Bagshot_

Magical Theory _ by Adalbert Waffling_

A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration _by Emeric Switch_

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi _ by Phyllida Spore_

Magical Drafts and Potions _ by Arsenius Jigger_

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them _by Newt Scamander_

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection _by Quentin Trimble_

_OTHER EQUIPMENT_

_1 wand_

_1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)_

_1 set glass or crystal phials_

_1 telescope_

_1 set brass scales_

_Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad_

_PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS_

As Cole looked over the list, Professor Cornfoot got up and went over to the bar. He returned just as Cole finished reading the list with two bottles of a yellowish substance labeled 'Butterbeer' in his hands.

"It's good. You'll like it," the professor said encouragingly, upon sitting back down across from Cole and setting down one of the bottles in front of the boy.

Tentatively, Cole reached out and picked up the bottle that Professor Cornfoot clearly intended for him to drink. "Thank you, sir," he said, before taking his very first sip of the concoction. As creamy and smooth as butterscotch, yet not so sickeningly sweet, the liquid crossed his tongue and slid down his throat. Its coolness was refreshing, and he couldn't help but smack his lips and take another sip as soon as he was through with the first. Madam Taft never allowed them treats like this. As he swallowed down his second swig of what was now his new favorite drink, he forced himself to put the bottle down and not drink anymore of it right away. He wanted to savor it.

When Cole looked up at Professor Cornfoot, he found the professor watching him with sadness that the man tried to hide behind a friendly demeanor. It was a look that he was more than familiar with. As he looked back down at his supplies list, he vowed not to drink anymore of the butterbeer, his pride rejecting the professor's pity.

"What all can I get second-hand?" Cole kept his eyes fixed upon his supplies list. While having brand new things sounded wonderful and a bit like a dream, he was a realist. New things would become old things, meaning that he might as well have boughten them second-hand to begin with. It was how he had justified the hand-me-down cloths, toys, book-bags, and the like that he'd owned over the course of his young life. He saw no reason for his status quo to change just because he'd be going to a school that taught magic in September. After all, it wasn't like he could be marked anymore of an orphan by second-hand things than by his very name and his inability to speak with confidence when he told people that August 1st was his birthday. He'd been given a name and a day of birth, because he needed a name and day of birth. What his parents had actually named him and what day he'd truly been born on … he'd give anything for that sort of information.

"You can get your robes second-hand, probably a lot of your books as well," Professor Cornfoot said. "I wouldn't suggest getting a second-hand wand or cauldron. It's best to know what potions have been brewed in your cauldron and a second-hand wand won't ever allow you to reach your full potential. Phials are rare to find second-hand, but you should have some luck with getting a second-hand telescope and scales."

Cole nodded and looked up at the professor. He noted that the man's butterbeer was almost empty. "Can we go and get my things now, sir? Madam Taft won't like it if I come back late."

"Don't you want to finish your butterbeer?" Professor Cornfoot asked with a frown

"No, sir." Cole stood and met the professor's gaze with a defiant jut of his jaw.

Professor Cornfoot regarded Cole quizzically, before nodding to the boy's letter and the pouch of money. "Very well, Mr. Trafalgar," he stood, "collect your things and we'll be on our way."


	2. The Hogwarts Express

Cole scowled at his reflection, his green eyes locked upon the bird's nest that was his hair. Madam Taft had already tried numerous gels and sprays to tame it over the three years that he had lived under her roof, but all to no avail. Leanne had offered to shave it off, but he had refused the offer and Madam Taft had scolded Leanne for even suggesting such a thing, as he would have looked even more like the 'hoodlum that he is' without hair. It was about the only thing that he and Madam Taft agreed on: incorrigible hair was better than no hair.

"Cole!"

Cole's scowl became more pronounced and he glared darkly at his unruly locks. He picked up his comb and attempted to comb his hair into something that appeared vaguely respectable. It was a last ditch effort, but it was all that he could do. He wanted to make a good first impression, not look like the troublemaker Madam Taft claimed him to be.

His efforts, however, were useless.

"Cole Trafalgar!"

"Coming, Madam Taft," Cole yelled back and ceased his attempt to make his hair lie flat. If anything, he was making it even messier. "Perhaps if I grew it out, it wouldn't be so bad," he muttered, while glaring one last time at his mutinous hair. Long hair had seemed to be a dignified look for men in the Wizarding World, unlike the general opinion of men with long hair in Muggle society.

"Boy, don't make me come up there!"

"I'll be down in a minute, Madam Taft!" Cole pocketed his comb with defeat.

Cole left the closet-sized, plain white walled bathroom at a leisurely pace, knowing exactly why Madam Taft was yelling, but also knowing that the the cabby would wait, as the man, or perhaps woman, was probably enjoying a nice smoke break and stretching his or her legs a bit.

Upon entering his small bedroom, Cole crossed the worn floorboards over to the lone, narrow window on the far wall that overlooked the street. Sure enough, he saw a black cab pulled against the curb and its cabby – a lean, blond man – leaning back against the hood of the cab with a cigarette in hand and a lazy air about his person.

Cole turned away from the window and looked about his room, his eyes passing over his creaky bed, rickety nightstand, and old wardrobe. His eyes settled upon his beat up, fifth-hand trunk that rested near his bedroom door and was packed with not only his Hogwarts things, but with his every worldly possession, few though they may be. He had no intention of ever returning to Madam Taft's house, or the Muggle World for that matter.

Over the last month and a half, Cole had spent nearly his every waking moment in his room reading his books and had found _A History of Magic_ to be most informative in its depiction of the Magical World. He wasn't just heading off to a boarding school that taught magic, he had quickly deduced. No, he was joining an entire magical population with its own culture, history, and laws, which had been hidden from the Muggles, or rather non-magical humans, at the end of the seventeenth century. He was to become a citizen of an entirely different world or state, in essence at the very least, as the magicals had their own Ministry and a Wizengamot, which was basically their version of Parliament, and for all intents and purposes, their system of government in the UK was wholly separate from the Muggles' government.

The way Cole saw things, he was a wizard and a therefore a citizen of the Wizarding World. As he had no family to keep him in the Muggle World, he belonged with his own kind. He had no business with and did not belong in the Muggle World, where everyone feared or condemned him for being different … for being magical.

"Cole!"

Cole sighed at hearing Leanne's yell. The girl was very eager for him to leave, nearly as eager as Madam Taft had become after the old bat had accepted that he was going to slip through her fingers and there wasn't a thing she could do about it. Professor Cornfoot had made that point very clear upon their return from Diagon Alley. For as long as Cole accepted his place at Hogwarts, Cole would attend the school and receive a full education. Nothing and no one could stop him from doing so, short of him getting himself expelled.

"The cab isn't going to wait forever!"

Cole tossed his comb and toothbrush into his truck and shut the lid with ease, seeing as it was barely three-quarters full. He grabbed the trunk's end handle nearest him and pulled it out of his room and towards the stairs with jerk motions, fighting it weight. It hit on every stair with a loud _thump_, as he wrestled it down the stairs, while attempting to prevent it from overtaking him. By the time he reached the entrance hall, he was panting from the exertion.

"About time," Madam Taft said snidely from where she stood with Leanne, the blond girl standing straight-backed at Madam Taft's left and looking down her nose at Cole.

Adam was nowhere to be found. Not that Cole was all that surprised, considering that he hadn't been on speaking terms with the boy since Professor Cornfoot's visit.

Cole finished pulling his trunk up the hall and out of the house, as Madam Taft directed Leanne to hold the door open for him. The two watch him tug his trunk from the stoop down onto the curb in cold silence. 'You will not be missed,' their eyes said to him.

"Let me help with that, lad." The cabby rushed forward – stomping out the butt of his cigarette, as he did so – and grabbed the end of the trunk that Cole had so far let drag and scrape along the ground. With the morning sun beating down upon their backs, he and Cole lifted the trunk into the boot of his cab.

When Cole looked back at the Edwardian townhouse, the front door was closed and no face looked out at him from one of the lace curtained windows in the sitting room or from one of the upstairs bedroom windows either.

"King's Cross?" the cabby asked for confirmation of Cole's destination.

"Yes, sir," Cole said and subsequently took his place in the backseat of the cab, while the cabby stepped around him to resume his position at the wheel.

As the cab pulled from the curb and accelerated, Cole fidget with the cuff of his faded denim jacket. He was nervous, despite his eagerness to leave his non-magical life behind. He had seen a lot of wondrous and completely mind boggling magic in Diagon Alley. He had read about even more magic in his books. He feared that his lack of knowledge when it came to magic and the Magical World in general would alienate him among his peers, as his magic had alienated him in the Muggle World.

As Cole watched buildings pass him by out his passenger window, he vowed to himself to learn all that he could about the Wizarding World and magic, in order to rid himself of his ignorance. He would make the Wizarding World his home.

_I will_, Cole promised himself fiercely.

When the cab finally pulled to a stop outside King's Cross Station a good twenty minutes later, Cole thanked the cabby and paid his fair with the pounds Madam Taft had given him at breakfast for the exact purpose. The cabby smiled at the generous tip and helped Cole retrieve his trunk from the boot and put it onto a cart. They parted ways with the cabby discussing his fair with an elderly couple leaving the station, as Cole pushed his loaded cart towards the train station's entrance.

The crowd inside King's Cross Station was moving this way and that. While trying not to run over and bump anyone, Cole turned his attention to locating Platform 9 ¾ without calling too much attention to himself. Professor Cornfoot had told him that the platform was hidden between platforms 9 and 10 and that all he had to do was walk through the barrier between them. Personally, Cole though it sounded like madness, walking through a solid wall of brick and mortar, but he had to trust the professor's information.

Once Cole had located platform 9 and 10, he hesitated and stared hard at the very solid looking barrier that he was to walk through. The image of him crashing his cart into the bricks and looking like an idiot who had lost control of his cart held him rooted to where he stood. It wasn't so much that he feared the embarrassment of looking like a fool, but rather feared the disappointment that the wall would be as solid as it looked.

After taking a few moments to work himself up to it, Cole forced himself to approach the barrier. He made sure that no one was watching him, before taking a single purposeful step forward, pushing the front of his cart into the barrier. Surprisingly, or unsurprisingly – Cole wasn't entirely certain about what he expected – the cart didn't crash into the brick, but sunk right into it with ease. He took another step and another and then he emerged right through the wall onto a busy platform filled with adults and children all moving about excitably, wishing each other well, and loading trunks, owls, and various other animals and items of cargo onto a long passenger train pulled by a great, red steam engine with the words 'Hogwarts Express' written down its side. A sign, which read 'Platform 9 ¾" hung proudly off of the nearest column.

Cole grinned, feeling his anticipation quashing his nervousness, and pushed his trunk laden cart into the crowd of his fellow magicals. As he moved down the platform, searching for a relatively empty car to board, he noted that some of the people on the platform were dressed in traditional wizard robes, while most were dressed in Muggle attire. He looked on with envy, as he passed a squat mother hugging her clearly embarrassed son goodbye, while the father of the family clasped another of their sons on the shoulder and wished the older boy a good year and reminded him to keep his grades up and to look out for his younger brother.

Cole boarded the last car. For the most part it was empty, and the very end cabin was empty entirely. He didn't feel up to trying to secure a spot in one of the already occupied cabins, so he claimed the end cabin for his own. Just like at school plays and other family oriented events that he had been forced to participate in at his primary school, watching all these parents hugging and kissing their children goodbye had left him feeling fairly lousy. He stored his trunk under the left bench seat with lackluster and sat down on the bench with his back turned to the window and his feet up on the seat.

Cole let out a breath of relief when the departure whistle blew and the train began to move. He couldn't say how long he sat staring at and fiddling with the frayed cuff of his denim jacket, but after a time, the door to his cabin slid open. He looked up to see a elderly woman smiling at him with a cart full of sweets beside her.

"Anything off the trolley, dear?" she asked kindly.

"No, ma'am." Cole shook his head. He only had 7 sickles and a knut and had no intention of spending what little money he had until he absolutely had to.

The woman gave him another smile, before sliding the cabin door back shut.

Cole heard the cart rattle along, as she headed back up the train. As her intrusion had disrupted his brooding, he found himself unable to return to his state of inactivity. He didn't generally remain idle, unless he had something to be upset or concerned about and need time to think. He preferred to be engaged in something – physically or mentally, it didn't much matter to him. Boredom was the bane of his existence, as well as a usual precursor to trouble when it came to him.

Restless, due to the fact that his nervousness and anticipation hadn't settled in the slightest, Cole glanced to the door of his cabin, contemplating the notion of exploring the train and attempting to meet the other students in his year. He discards the notion with the narrowing of his eyes. He didn't particularly care to appear like he was out searching for friends. He had learned many hard truths throughout his young life and one of the most prominent ones was to never show weakness.

Cole had never really had friends and wouldn't mind gaining a few, but to go out searching for friends would be to show weakness, he knew, as it would show that he cared about having friends, and showing that he wanted friends, while not currently having any, would only give whatever bullies he may encounter something to tease him about. He'd rather not give out free ammunition, seeing as the impression he got from his readings and trip to Diagon Alley over the summer was that his Muggle-born status would be right up there with his orphan status in already making him prime target for abuse.

To distract himself, Cole retrieved his copy of _Magical Theory_ by Adalbert Waffling from his trunk and settled back in his seat. The book was probably the most useful of all his textbooks to familiarize himself with thoroughly before his classes began.

Cole had made sure to read the first few chapters of all his textbooks, instead of focusing on one or two in particular and ignoring the less intriguing subjects, though he had spent considerable time studying his _A History of Magic_ text in comparison to his other books in an effort to better familiarize himself with the Magical World. Nonetheless, out of all of his books, he had observed that _Magical Theory_ discussed the brunt of the magic he'd be learning in his classes over the next seven years in a general overview of the principles of magic at its base nature through its application by incantation and wand movements. The gargantuan text encompassed the theory behind charms, transfigurations, hexes, counter-jinxes, and the wand work that went into potion making and the light touch of spells needed in herbology, as well as the basic organic regeneration that was part of nearly all healing spells. It rarely discussed a specific spell – at least not in the few chapters that he had read so far – but rather focused on what made all spellwork of a subject effective.

Cole couldn't imagine trying to get along in his classes without having read at least a sizable portion of what Adalbert Waffling had to say about magical theory, as he imagined that he'd no sooner be able to transfigure a beetle into a button than be able to brew a decent potion.

Cole barely noticed that the afternoon slipped away into the evening. He was aware, though, when the sunlight streaming in through his cabin window dimmed enough that the lamps inside his cabin lit up with a golden glow that cast across the page he'd been reading. A little over a half-hour latter, he was caught off guard by the announcement that the train was approaching Hogsmeade Station.

Cole replaced _Magical Theory_ and _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ in his trunk and removed a plain set of black robes and his wizard's hat in trade. He took off and added his denim jacket to his trunk, before closing and stowing it back under his seat. He slipped his robes over his tattered t-shirt and trousers and secured his hat on his head somewhat self-consciously. He felt a twinge ridiculous with a pointed hat perched atop his head and was just thankful that the modern wizard robes were open down the front, instead of dress-like as they had been up to a few decades ago. He would have felt even more ridiculous, if he had been forced to wear the older style robes.

When the train pulled into Hogsmeade Station, Cole disembarked with the rest of his peers. However, once on the platform the older students headed off to queue up for what appeared to be horseless carriages, while a massive man that Cole knew without a doubt was the largest man he had ever seen called for the first years.

"C'mon, follow me – any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!" the man said in thick Scottish accent, as Cole and a few others approached him cautiously. He was at least twice as tall as most of the six and seventh years and nearly three times as wide.

Cole felt reassured that he wasn't the only one frightened, as he took note of his fellow year mates' reaction to the man. The blond girl beside him wasn't even trying to hide her fright. He didn't blame her, as the man was not only massive, but muscular and sort of brutish looking. He could no doubt squash any one of them like a bug, if he were so inclined. The man didn't, though, and instead led the weary group of first years down a sloped, muddy path.

Cole slipped and slid more than the others around him due to the tread on his trainers being so worn that it had become nearly nonexistent. He apologized obligatorily to a blond boy, who sneered at him and demanded that he get his filthy hands off of him, when he accidentally crashed into him and was forced to grab hold of his arm to regain his balance.

Eventually, the group found themselves back on level ground and were led around a bend of bushes with ancient looking trees rising all around them. Cole wasn't sure what kind of trees they were for how dark it was with only the stars and a waning moon lighting their way.

After another minute of tripping over small boulders and twitching at every sound that came from the tickets around them, Cole heard exclamations of wonder from his year mates ahead of him, as a break in the undergrowth became apparent and a clearing became visible beyond it, suggesting itself as their destination. Upon reaching the clearing himself, his breath caught. The sight is fantastical. The smooth, glassy water of the lake spread out before him reflected the stars and moon, as well as the mystical castle that rose form its cliffed shore opposite the clearing. The castle's windows were lit brilliantly, and its many towering turrets reached for the night sky with prestige and an everlasting visage.

_This is Hogwarts, my new home, _Cole thought with awe, his eyes fixed on the Hogwarts Castle.

"No more'n four to a boat!" the massive man instructed, pulling Cole form his staring and causing him to take note of the many boats lined up along the pebbled shore and the fact that a majority of his year mates have already claimed a seat in one boat or another.

Cole frowned at seeing his limited seating options, the most apparent was an open spot next to the blond boy that he had nearly toppled back on the path. He walked further down the line of boats, hoping to find better prospects, and felt a wash of relief at seeing that a boat on the far end of the shore was only half occupied by two boys, one dark haired and the other tawny haired. The dark haired boy waved him over in an obvious invitation for him to join them. He smiled and quickly did so just in time.

"Everyone in?" their escort asked expectantly, just as Cole settled himself. "Right then – FORWARD!"

All at once, the boats jutted forward without causing even a single ripple in the water's glassy surface, floating out into the the lake soundlessly and propelled by magic alone. The group of first years and their escort glided along in equal silence, the first years' eyes fixed upon the ever approaching castle.

As the castle grew bigger and bigger, Cole felt his awe double and a sense of disbelief regarding the turn his life had taken overwhelmed him. He was magic, Hogwarts Castle and the boat he sailed in were magic, and he'd soon be learning all about magic. He had always know that he was different, that he possessed the gift of magic, but never had he dreamed that his life would lead him to this.

By the time the boats docked in an underground cove, Cole was buzzing with nearly uncontrollable excitement, his nervousness nearly all but forgotten. He was one of the first to rush after the massive man, who held his lamp aloft to light their way up a passageway in the rocks. They climbed and climbed, their footfalls scuffling along. After what felt like forever, but was most likely only a few minutes, they emerged onto a manicured lawn at the base of the castle. From this vantage point, the castle felt somewhat imposing and Cole realized with a start that the castle was much larger than it had appeared from the lake.

"Everyone here?" the massive man asked, as he gathered the first years on the flagstone stairs before a pair of huge, oak doors closing off the castle to them. He scanned the students with beady black eyes. Satisfied he turned to the doors and raised a meaty fist.

_Thump! Thump! Thump! _ He knocked three times in quick succession.


End file.
